


To Never Leave

by writerforlife



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, descriptions of past child abuse, they aren't graphic but they're there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:06:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6452953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerforlife/pseuds/writerforlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam Parrish never cries. Except when he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Never Leave

Adam truly sobbed for the first time when he was seven years old. It was also the first time his father had ever hit him. 

He had been doing the dishes after dinner one night, and had dropped a plate. It had hit the trailer floor with and mighty crash and exploded into dozens of shattered pieces. Barefoot, Adam gasped and tried not to step on the broken glass shards. 

“Well, look what you fucking did.” His father appeared in the door, a beer bottle in hand. “Do you think we have so many plates that you can just break one whenever you feel like it?”

“It was an accident.” Adam stepped forward carefully, avoiding the glass, but his father lunged and slammed him back into the counter. His head flew back and hit the cabinet. A painfully large piece of glass lodged itself in his heel, and he let out a howl. Tears ran down his cheeks already. 

His father chuckled darkly and took a swig of his beer. “You think that hurts? Stop crying.” He backhanded Adam, and with that, Adam ducked under his father’s arm and moved to his room as quickly as possible. 

Adam collapsed onto his bed, already shaking with sobs. The glass in his foot was painful, as was the welt across his face and lump on the back of his head, but the fact that his father had actually struck him with the intention to harm was more painful. He buried his face in his pillow and cried more tears than he thought he had. He hoped that his father would come in and apologize for hitting him, but his door remained closed. He hoped that his mother may come in and tell him that it was okay, that she was there for him, but the door remained closed. At seven years old, he understood that he was alone. 

When his pillow was soaked with his own tears, he sat up and pulled his foot onto his lap. With gritted teeth, he yanked the shard of glass out of his own foot and staunched the blood flow with a pajama shirt that could get some blood on it. He set the glass on his bedside table, and when the blood had finally stopped, he stood up and left his room. 

His father was lounging on the couch, two empty beer bottles beside him and another one in hand. Many years later, Adam would think how his father could afford a drinking habit but not a new plate. 

Robert Parrish snorted. “Were you crying?”

Adam nodded twice and sniffled. He rubbed at his swollen eyes and took a step closer to his father, hoping for an apology, for anything. 

“You know who cries? Pussies. Don’t let me catch you crying.” He gulped down what was left in the bottle and placed it beside him. “Go get me another beer.”

Adam’s lower lip wobbled. 

 

From that point on, Adam made a point of not crying in front of his father. When he hit him, he would wait until he was done and he was alone in his room to cry. Sometimes, he didn’t even cry, and that’s what scared him the most: the fact that he was so used to getting beaten by someone who should be taking care of him that he didn’t even get upset. Most times it happened, he just mopped up whatever blood there was, figured out what he could wear to cover up the bruises, picked out some makeup to cover anything on his face, and went to bed. 

There was one time when he couldn’t help it, though. He was fourteen when he cried in front of his father.

Adam had been doing his homework in his room, and it was almost midnight because he had done some work for a neighbor and he really,  _ really,  _ didn’t understand how to do the work. He would trudge through it though, and it would be the best he had to offer, no matter how long it took. 

There was a harsh pounding on his door, and Adam leaped from the bed. He shut his math book with shaking hands and opened his door to find his father there. Once, he had tried just not opening the door, but once his father inevitably got in, he had ended up with a black eye, cut from a beer bottle on his chest, a broken finger, and a twisted ankle. Now, he just opened the door. 

“Why the hell is your light on?” 

“Homework.”

“Homework? You’re telling me that you’re staying up all night and will be tired today and not able to do a lick of work around the house tomorrow?”

Adam ducked his head. “Yes sir.”

He slapped Adam across the face. Adam didn’t react, so his father shoved him. This time, he hit his desk and collapsed onto the floor. He raised himself onto his hands and knees, but didn’t stand up. He was so tired; maybe if he just stayed down his father would stop.

Of course it didn’t work that way. 

“Get the fuck up.” 

Adam stayed down. His father kicked him in the ribs, and Adam crumpled again. 

“Stand up!” Another kick, this time on his back. Tears streamed down Adam’s face, and only after his father kicked up again in the chest did he stand up on wobbly legs. 

“Are you really crying?” He shoved Adam back into his dresser, and Adam’s back hit the corner. A cry escaped his lips. Blood was dripping down the small of his back. The cut felt deep, yet Adam felt only relief that it was somewhere no one could see. “Real men don’t cry.” He slapped Adam one more time for good measure, then stormed out the room. When he slammed the door, all the walls shook. 

Adam collapsed onto the bed, his homework forgotten. Tears were flowing freely down his face, and sobs were fighting to escape. He gingerly flipped himself onto his stomach and buried his face into a pillow. Each sob hurt his bruised ribs, and blood was flowing from his back, yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop crying and fix these things. At fourteen, he felt incredibly alone and helpless. At fourteen, he felt like his life would amount to nothing but getting killed by his father no matter how hard he work. 

Finally, he took a few deep breaths, sat up, and wiped his eyes. He wouldn’t cry anymore. Not in front of his father, not in front of anyone, not alone. There would be no more tears in his life, because if he cried, he wouldn’t get anything but hurt. People would see him as weak, and he would be right back in this moment, sobbing alone into a flat pillow at midnight with bruises decorating his body. 

With this in mind, he dried his eyes and finished his homework. He would do this by himself, as he always would, because who would ever want to help him?

 

Throughout the years, Adam learned how to control his tears. When his father hit him, he would just wipe his face of any emotion and not let himself think about the injustice of it all when he cleaned himself up in the flickering light of the bathroom. Tears only came when everything was too much. Most importantly, he never cried in front of his father again, but he also never cried in front of anyone else. He hardly showed when something was wrong, either. 

This didn’t change when he began to go to Aglionby. He couldn’t show any trace of his roots, so he didn’t say a word about his life at home, instead making sure his uniforms stayed as pristine as possible and practicing different ways to flatten his accent late at night when everyone else was asleep. There was no way he could speak about all the bad things in his life when he was surrounded by some of the most priveleged boys in the state of Virginia. His feelings only intensified when he became friends with Gansey and subsequently Ronan. Gansey was arguably the most well-liked and put together boy at the school, and Ronan was tougher than nails. He didn’t tell them what his father was doing to him, dodging their questions until it was getting ridiculous. The only reason he told them was that Ronan had threatened to go over to his house and see what was happening, and Adam couldn’t handle the thought of breaking the last part of his facade of having a good, safe life. 

Even after they knew what his dad was doing, Adam couldn’t find it within himself to show sadness or despair in front of his friends. He wished that he could be open, but he knew that it wasn’t possible. As soon as they saw him cry, as soon as they saw him lose control for even a split second, they would see him for what he really was, and Adam couldn’t have that happen. 

 

It was a few weeks after Maura had returned and Persephone had died, and Adam was in his apartment, hunched over Latin homework. Ronan was stretched out on the bed, his eyes closed and headphones on.  

It was also a few weeks after Adam had kissed Ronan for the first time.

They hadn’t been in mortal danger. Ronan hadn’t been dying or hurt or upset. No, they had just been driving around in Ronan’s BMW late one night when Ronan couldn’t sleep and Adam didn’t want to let him go drive around alone. When Ronan had stopped on top of a hill and they were sitting there looking out at the stars, Adam had finally gotten sick of the fighting and the faking and the avoiding and kissed Ronan. He had pressed a hand against Ronan’s chest and cupped his jaw with the other, then pulled back when he realized what he had done. They had both sat in total, awkward silence for a few beats, and then Ronan practically leapt at Adam, kissing him on the lips again. After Ronan pulled away, they had both laughed, and when Ronan drove them home, he kept glancing at Adam with the purest grin Adam had ever seen from him. 

Now, it was natural for Ronan to be just be on Adam’s bed while Adam was doing other stuff. Most nights, he welcomed his presence, yet tonight, it was only putting pressure on him. 

His shift at the garage had been long and difficult. He hadn’t been able to fix one of the cars that a customer had brought to him and had received an earful for it. His backpack was also weighed down with homework, Cabeswater was being demanding, and as the days ticked by, Gansey’s impending death weighed on him more and more. There was no way he could let Gansey die, not after everything they had been through. It wasn’t optional to not save him, especially after Persephone. He had already failed Blue by letting Persephone die, and he couldn’t do it again by not saving Gansey. That wasn’t even considering how much Ronan would hate him if he let Gansey die. Ronan would go to a dark place, somewhere Adam couldn’t follow, and now that he had  _ this,  _ that was the last thing Adam wanted.

The world was weighing very, very heavily on Adam, and he wasn’t understanding his homework, he was tired, he couldn’t think straight, and there were tears welling up in his eyes. He snuck a furtive glance over at Ronan. His headphones were still in, his eyes were closed, and his bare chest rose and fell gently. 

Crying in front of Ronan wasn’t an option, but the tears were still threatening to appear. He had to show that he was strong and in control and that his life wasn’t coming apart at the seams. At the moment, the bathroom seemed like the best option, so he cautiously stood up and began to tiptoe across the room. However, his plan to quietly escape failed when he tripped over his own backpack and smashed into the wall with a loud bang. He braced himself so that his nose didn’t hit the wall, and a sharp pain shot through his wrist. That was the final straw. Adam leaned his head against the wall and finally let his tears fall, his chest shaking slightly. 

“Fucking fuck!” Ronan burst out, his voice thick with sleep. “Are you trying to fucking take out a wall, Adam?” Ronan’s voice only made Adam cry more. Of course he didn’t expect Adam to be crying. He expected him to be strong, because he was always strong and always in control. The thought only made him hiccup a little bit. 

“Adam? Shit, are you crying?” He heard a rustle behind him, and before he knew it, a strong hand was on his shoulder. When he turned to face Ronan, knowing his face was red and his eyes were puffy, he expected to see disgust on Ronan’s face. Instead, he was met with wide, frightened eyes and drawn eyebrows. He couldn’t contain a small sob, and tears fell harder. He couldn’t even tell Ronan what he was crying about without telling him about Gansey’s predicted fate.

“I…” Adam tried to say something, he didn’t know what, but it seemed very important to say something. More tears just came out.

“Fuck, Adam.” Ronan took him by the shoulders and led him to the bed, then guided him into a sitting position. He gently wrapped the thicker blanket that he brought with him to the apartment around his shoulders. His hands hovered over Adam for a second, and then he nearly dashed out of the room. 

Adam cried harder and rested his face in his hands. This was it. This would be it. 

“Adam, if you don’t fucking drink this you’re gonna choke on your own snot.” Ronan’s voice, gentle and soft, didn’t match his words. He sat down on the bed next to Adam, not touching him, then handed a glass of water to Adam. It seemed like Ronan was afraid, with his tense shoulders and tapping hands. Adam gulped down the water, but it didn’t do anything to stop his tears. He was crying silently, but his entire body was shaking. 

“I’m… sorry,” he managed to gasp out, making eye contact with Ronan. 

Ronan put a tentative hand on Adam’s knee. While there was no harm intended, yet Adam still flinched, and Ronan pulled his hand away as if he had been burned. Ronan leapt from the bed and paced around, eye flicking toward the door. 

“You can leave. If you want,” Adam suggested, his voice shaky. 

Ronan stopped pacing. “Get over yourself. I’m not fucking leaving you here while you’re crying.” He resumed his pacing, looking very much like he wanted to destroy something, his fists clenched. “Whose ass do I need to kick?” he growled.

“What?”

“I’ve never seen you cry. Something really, really shitty happened if you’re crying, and if someone did something shitty to you, they’re gonna regret the day they were born.”

Adam shrugged, tears still coming down. “Everything is kinda overwhelming right now.” He cringed as his accent stole the “g’s” from the end of his words, and he cried harder.  Another part of his wall down. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“You don’t have to be fine,” Ronan blurted out, twisting the leather bands on his wrist back and forward. He wouldn’t make eye contact with Adam. “You don’t have to tell me why you’re crying. I can also leave. If you want.”

“Okay.” Ronan looked at him with wide eyes and moved cautiously towards the door before Adam realized what he implied. “I mean I’m not fine. Right now, that is. And if you stayed… that would be nice.” Adam swallowed his pride as he swung his legs onto the bed and stretched out. “Right here, that is.”

“Alright.” Ronan sat down next to him and went to put an arm around Adam, but then pulled back his arm. The motion caused a new wave of tears. Adam wanted so much to not be scared, to know that Ronan wouldn’t hurt him, to be so sure of himself, but he couldn’t. He could try, though. He leaned his head into Ronan’s shoulder and let himself cry, and it was like unlocking a flood gate. Ronan immediately put both arms around Adam and pulled him close, putting his forehead on the top of Adam’s head. With that, Adam was undone. He had stopped crying a little bit, but he was nearly sobbing, now, his chest heaving. Everything was too much, and with Ronan there, holding him against his chest, he felt like he could finally let out all the tears he had been holding in for forever. 

When he had cried himself out, Ronan still didn’t move from where he was. Instead, he smoothed out Adam’s hair and kissed the top of his head. 

“I don’t want to tell you why I was crying,” Adam said with a sniffle. 

“Why the fuck would I ask?” There was no bite in his voice. “Seriously, you don’t have to tell me shit.”

“You aren’t curious?”

Adam felt Ronan’s shoulders move up and down. “I trust you. Your life can be bad. If you need to cry, you need to cry.” He shifted from a sitting position to lying down, not letting go of Adam. It was dark in the apartment, and it made Adam feel very, very brave. 

“Why didn’t you leave when I started crying?”

Ronan chuckled. “What, just bail out when I saw the first tear?”

“Yeah.”

His laughter stopped abruptly. “Did you think I would do that?”

“Only weak people cry.”

“Parrish, if I went by that rule, everyone in the world would be weak.”

“My dad would hit me harder if I cried” Adam whispered. Ronan tensed up, and Adam knew that he wanted more explanation, but that confession had stolen all his words. Adam wanted to give him an explanation because he deserved it. He rolled over onto his stomach and guided Ronan’s hand to the small of his back and the scar there. “I started crying and pushed me into the corner of my desk.”

“I should’ve fucking bashed his head against the ground,” Ronan grumbled. “You aren’t weak because you cried, and if you feel bad because you cried in front of me, that’s fucking stupid. You’re stronger than all of us, Adam.” 

Apparently the dark made Ronan brave, too. 

Adam curled into him and closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, his lips on Ronan’s neck. 

“Anytime,” Ronan replied softly. It could have been sarcastic, but it sounded like one of the most sincere things he had ever said. “I would never leave you, Adam. You never have to worry about that.”

As Adam drifted off to sleep with Ronan’s arms around him, he felt safe. 


End file.
